My Day At School Sweetie Essay

It was early July in Southern California: the sun was high, the air was warm, and the palm trees were swaying. Unfortunately, the bright sun could not light the darkness of the pit I had been slowly falling into during my tumultuous school year at my new charter school. On that day, when the other girls were tanning beachside, I was sitting deskside. I was trapped in a tiny, moldy, yellow-carpeted education office at the school I had transferred to the year prior. Like my fading hope, the dusty chandelier was barely hanging on from the ceiling. The room’s peculiarity added to my anxiety, as I felt failure lingering in the musty air. Though I had been sheltered by my parents’ optimism, I knew what I would soon hear: “I am so sorry sweetheart,

Starting the day started off by waiting in my seat a 3rd-grade classroom at River View Elementary taught by Mrs. Course. Surrounded by the same people every day waiting in agony to get called out of the classroom. It was thoughtful of the teachers to let me leave almost every day, so I could gain help with reading during the time everyone else was reading with the teacher. Although leaving early every day left me wondering if anyone notices. The teacher walks up to me and says “Shaylee it’s time to go.” After that worry, the other 3rd graders will notice I abandon the classroom seeps into my thoughts. The volcano of questions starts to explode, creating inquiry thoughts of “What if they make fun of me?”, “Where did you

I walk in with my heart rate skyrocketing, and stomach is churning. It’s a new start to my sophomore year. That is what I need, a place where no one knows me or what I have done. I walk into the office to get my locker number and schedule. “Hi, I, uh am here for my schedule.” The lady at the desk gave me a strange look “Oh you’re the new kid Philip right?”. I nodded, I hate when people call me Philip it makes me sound like an old guy, like old people are nice but I’m not old, now I feel bad for old people. “Alright deary here you go.” She smiles while handing me my combo and schedule. “Thank you.” I walk out and head to the my first class. I walked to my class, I was standing in front of the door to scared to open it, I’m just so nervous what if no one likes me. I decided to open it and within a second all eyes were on me, but only one stood out. They belonged to this boy who had a fringe like mine and eyes that can make anyone melt. “Class this is the new student Philip” the teacher said taking my attention off the boy, “Oh ya hi, but I go by phil not Philip, sorry it just sounds like a

When I arrived at P.S. 206 for my first day of the 4th grade on September 2nd, 2008, I was not fluent in English and a complete stranger. Since I went to a modest religious school in an insignificant town in Chernivtsi, Ukraine, I was only used to interacting with a small number of students and teachers each day. Not surprisingly, I clutched my lunch bag with anxiety to protect myself from the never ending crowd of boisterous children in the lobby of my new school. Needless to say, I was frightened and incapable of speaking up when asked where I was supposed to be. Fortunately, a teacher came up and attempted to engage me a conversation; however, my face was full of confusion. Despite her generous assistance, my day was filled with anxiety from my bizarre surroundings. My basic abilities had suddenly been torn away from me.

But my mom and aunt assured me that everything will be fine and that kids here are very kind and friendly. Though I wanted to run back to my mom and go home with her, I decided against it and followed the counselor to Ms. Algers’ fourth grade classroom. As soon as I walked in, Ms. Algers’ introduced me to the whole class, and my soon-to-be classmates greeted me with a nod, smile, or “hello’s”. Though everyone was warm, there was this one girl who went above and beyond to make me feel welcomed, her name was Emma. She had blonde hair with glistening blue eyes, loved to play soccer, participated in student body activities, and wore abundant pastel colored shirts. She had prepared a welcome card and a pencil for me on my first day of school. She even introduced me to her friends, showed me around the classroom, sat with me during lunch, and played with me during recess. Her kindness made me feel like I belonged there and helped me get over my fears in a short amount of

The next few weeks at school dragged on and the relationship with my teacher was strained. As soon as I stepped into Mrs. Lee’s classroom the pit in my stomach plummeted thinking about her accusations towards me. Nevertheless, I still maintained my love for school. I enjoyed the enlightened feeling I got from learning something new and the institution provided a place for me and my friends to play and be imaginative. I did not realize that that my love for play would subject me to another occasion of discriminatory

It was 1:00 pm when I arrived at Wanamaker Elementary School. Patiently I waited outside the door. When I was finally let inside the classroom, I was welcomed by a mixture of bright smiles and blank stares. Mrs. Stark then introduced me to the class of twenty third graders. After she introduced me to the whole class, I quietly made my way to the back of the room. As I looked around the classroom, I saw twenty occupied desks. Mrs. Stark decorated her classroom with many motivational posters and some of the student’s artwork. During my observation of the classroom, I was able to see how the teacher interacted with the students, how gender roles were apparent between students, and lastly see the how the students interacted with each other.

It was the end of a normal school day. Our first home game was that day and I was pumped! I went home after school to get my jerseys and my squeaky clean, high top basketball shoes, then headed to the school shortly after. We were versing Ridgedale that day which I was almost 110% sure that we would win because the varsity last year creamed them. So we all get ready to go out and warm up, like usual. The game then started and we played really good I made 7 offencive and 5 defensive rebounds, and 2 points. After half time that game I was told to go dress for the varsity game. I felt really good about myself and I was ready to play more. So we were warming up like usual and then when the game started I was sitting on the bench until after half time. In the third

A shot of excitement washed over me like a wave washing onto sand, as I stepped into my fourth hour of the day for the first time. Stopping in the doorway, my eyes took in the small space that was in front of me; the long wooden desks with bright orange, metal chairs resting at their sides, to the small black bookshelf that was covering the back wall. In between was the long black table protruding from the left wall and dated couches with floral print in the back. As I finally stepped into the classroom, I saw the teacher. She was an older woman with short, boyish style gray hair, she had a plump frame and was a little bit taller than my 5’5 frame. On the bridge of her nose rested a small pair of circular glasses. “Hello class, I’m Ms. Naz,” her voice boomed. I scrambled to take my seat that was, thankfully, near the front. Scanning the classroom once more I hoped that I would find some of my friends. Seeing a girl who was in my second hour class, I made a mental note to try and talk to her later; beside her, I couldn’t find any of my newly made friends. I’m just going to love this class, a sarcastic voice in the back of my head exclaimed.

Monday was my first day at Kendrick Elementary. The first thing I did in the morning was meeting with the principal and my supervisor Nicole to talk about our goals and plans. We discussed the cases that need more attention. After our meeting, I spent the entire morning with Nicole going over all the cases that are open and separating the students by grades and the paperwork that is still missing in the files. As I was reading all the cases, I realized how much help those kids need. Even though it is sad, I felt motivate to start doing my job and try my best to improve those children’s lives. In the afternoon, we separated the children into different groups and Nicole emailed the principal in order to get her

I sat nervously on my chair, fiddling with my new sharpened pencils. First days of school were hardly any fun for me, I never enjoyed them. Mrs.Perryman, my new fourth grade teacher, walked in with a cheeky smile and a big black bow on her head. She pulled out a white piece of paper, and immediately my heart started to thump out of my chest. My breath hitched and it felt as if everything was slowing down. “Well goodmorning class, and welcome to a new school year! Let’s start off with attendance shall we?” This was the most dreadful part of the day, I wasn’t looking forward to this, knowing every teacher I had always misspronounced my name. “G-Glendale? I’m so sorry if I say it wrong. If I do, please feel free to correct me.” My eyes widened in shock and astonishment. For the very first time, a teacher pronounced my name perfectly without me having to correct them. I looked down and nodded my head shyly, indicating that she read it right.

On my way to class, I saw one of the boy’s friends, who had tripped me, running saying, “She’s coming.” I stopped before I turned the corner into the classroom. I took a deep breath and in I went. The boy and his friends went out of their way to make fun of my ethnicity. As I walked in, I saw my desk was covered with watermelon slices. I paused at the door. One boy says, “Once you finish cotton pickin’, you can have all the watermelon you would like.” I didn’t find it amusing anymore. It was too much. The worst part about it is it’s not like there wasn’t anyone else in the room with us. Other students watched the boys humiliate me for no other reason than because I was a different skin tone. You might be asking where the teacher was. He was split between two schools, therefore everyday he was late by twenty minutes. This obviously left a lot of time for these kids to plan and coordinate such mortifying events. To this day, the teacher never knew about anything that went down before he got to

I remember one incredibly funny day from last year. It was the day I fell through the glass display case at school. Boy, I tell you that sucked so bad. I know for a fact I’ll never live it down. I’m known for being pretty accident prone so it was no surprise to people when they found out I was the one who had left the blood stain in the hallway.

It was really dark, rainy and gloomy outside and it was a school day. As my mom started to pack her luggage I thought about why she was going suddenly and how long she was going to be gone. She was going to India to visit my grandfather who had cancer for about 2 years now and he wasn't in good health. I was in 4th grade and we lived about 2 minutes away from the school. I lived in and still live in Virginia Beach. We lived close to Seaboard road which was where my school was. The name of the school was Old Donation School/ Kemps Landing. It was a school for gifted students who think in different and creative ways. I was really tired and sleepy that morning. When I reached school all I could think about was why my mom was leaving all of a sudden. Something was fishy and I had to get to the bottom of it. I had to stay after school for theatre club too which meant that my day was going to be longer.

The lazy days of the Summer were ending and day by day I was inching closer to my first day of school. The first day of school finally arrived, and I couldn’t wait to make new friends. There I was attending school and beginning a new chapter in my life. I sat there in the hard seat of my desk with my eyes full of amazement as I analyzed the classroom setting. After all the children were seated, the teacher, Miss Annette, handed out a blank piece of paper and announced the directions for the assignment. I looked around and all my classmates seemed to be doing what the teacher asked except me. In those moments my total interpretation of school changed because I realized that everyone knew English except me. Although I was born in the United